Capítulo 794: Chapter 794: Violation of the ban and email gate
In the picturesque city of Santa Monica, nestled in the charming house that Martin had generously gifted to Bruce, Judy was bustling in the kitchen, preparing a sumptuous dinner. She picked up her phone and called Bruce to join her.
Bruce arrived wearing a pair of comically tight swimming trunks, adorned with over a dozen heating pads, making for an odd and slightly amusing sight.
Judy stared at him, bewildered. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.
"My pelvis hurts," Bruce replied, his tone matter-of-fact. He had been frequenting Chinatown, where someone had recommended he use heat to soothe his aching bones. "Someone told me that keeping warm helps when my bones hurt."
Judy, still puzzled, subconsciously rubbed her own lower back, and with a touch of frustration, retorted, "You brought this on yourself!"
Bruce, ever the contrarian, defended himself with twisted logic. "I'm just worried you might harm Martin."
Judy finally grasped why she had fallen for Bruce; his shamelessness matched her own perfectly. She chuckled inwardly at the realization.
As they sat down to eat, Bruce spoke between bites, "You seemed to be enjoying yourself while I was busy, and you never replied to me."
Judy, with a graceful flick of her golden brown hair, tied it into a high ponytail. Sitting opposite Bruce, she declared, "I've been in this industry for over a decade. I might forget small things, but I always remember the big ones. I've never fabricated important news."
Bruce nodded, knowing Judy well enough to trust her words. "I'm not asking for fake news, just for you to do what you do best."
Judy's eyes flared with intensity. "Do you know what I'm best at?"
Bruce remained silent, continuing his meal.
Jody leaned back and laughed. "If you want something, you have to be willing to pay for it. Don't you want to see news that favors Martin on TMZ?"
Bruce, determined and resigned, stood up and walked around the table towards Jody. He was prepared to make yet another sacrifice for Martin.
When the passionate exchange was over, they got down to business. Judy, a journalist with staunch professional ethics and journalistic principles, absolutely refused to endorse fake news on TMZ. Fabricating stories was against everything she stood for.
However, reporting on real events was a different matter. Before a story could be reported, it sometimes had to be created. Bruce and Jody had mastered this art over the years, crafting narratives with no moral hesitation.
In the early hours of the day the Academy sent out Oscar ballots, a carefully orchestrated event took place. Using advanced hacking techniques and unregulated public equipment, a powerful email was sent to many Academy members. Its content was not to disparage other contenders, but to sing the praises of Ang Lee and his film "Life of Pi."
Both Bruce and Judy knew that the line between news and reality could blur, and they were adept at walking that fine line to shape the stories they wanted the world to see.
Ralph, residing in North Hollywood, became a member of the prestigious Art Directors Guild in 1999. Not long after, he received an invitation from the Film Academy, granting him the esteemed privilege of voting for the Oscars.
In those early years, Ralph approached his role with the utmost diligence. He meticulously watched every nominated film, engaged in serious discussions with public relations representatives and filmmakers, and cast his crucial vote with a sense of solemn responsibility.
However, after several years of Oscars, Ralph noticed a disheartening trend. None of the films he supported ever won major awards. Gradually, his enthusiasm waned.
He became a notorious figure for his unorthodox voting methods, often demonstrating his frustration publicly by advocating for voting with eyes closed, or using stones, and even casting his vote from the second floor. Ralph frequently wrote scathing articles and blog posts, criticizing the Academy's lax publicity and chaotic public relations, turning the Oscars into a farce in his eyes.
Though no longer young, Ralph maintained the fiery spirit of an angry young man within the Film Academy, much to the dismay of both the Academy and the Art Directors Guild, neither of which welcomed his contentious presence.
One morning, after a simple breakfast, Ralph entered his study. He switched on his computer, ready to pen another blistering blog post about the Oscars. This year's awards season was particularly chaotic, with media reports spiraling into a frenzy.
As he opened his blog, he noticed three new unread emails in his work inbox. The first two were mundane work-related messages, which he promptly deleted. But the third email caught his attention; it was related to Oscars public relations, and it was sent anonymously.
"Dear Mr. Ralph Jackson, we apologize for the intrusion and hope you will forgive us. We wrote to you to say that we hope you will like the film 'Life of Pi.' If you like it and hope we win, please vote for us and forward it to your Oscar judge friends, actors, directors, crews, art directors, special effects personnel. If everyone can forward it to one or two friends, we can win the Oscar..."
Ralph's face darkened with anger. This was an obvious canvassing email, a blatant violation of Academy rules. According to regulations, any crew participating in the Oscar competition was strictly prohibited from directly emailing judges to solicit votes. While public relations activities like film screenings, breakfast meetings, and distributing promotional materials were allowed, direct canvassing was forbidden.
"You can highlight how good the movie is," Ralph muttered to himself, "but you can't explicitly ask for votes."
Academy regulations were clear on paper, but in practice, things often played out differently. Ralph knew this too well, but the flagrant disregard for the rules still infuriated him.
He stared at the email, feeling a surge of righteous indignation. The integrity of the Oscars was once again under threat, and Ralph, ever the angry crusader, was ready to call out the hypocrisy and fight for the principles he held dear.
Privately, it didn't matter what friends like the Asshole Trio said. They were always full of controversial opinions and wild stories. But when it came to the Academy's rules, things were supposed to be different.
The Academy had strict regulations: gifts from film crews to judges couldn't exceed $35. Yet, somehow, the crews always found loopholes, like "renting" gifts to the judges. According to the Academy's rules, information or comments about the film, along with various praising articles, could be sent to Academy members via mail or email. As long as there was no explicit mention of voting, it was permissible. Even if such content did slip through, it was usually overlooked.
A tacit understanding existed: if you don't say it, I won't either.
But Ralph Jackson was a different breed. Specifically singled out by Nicholson for his fiery temperament, Ralph was a cynical, old angry young man who had been discontented with the chaotic Oscar public relations for years. In the past, he'd turn a blind eye unless something directly offended him.
Now, however, someone had crossed the line by sending a canvassing email directly to his work inbox, and Ralph couldn't stand it.
"These bastards are getting more and more brazen!" he fumed. After a moment's thought, an idea struck him. He took a screenshot of the email content, logged into his blog, and began typing furiously.
"Some crews and films are blatantly violating Oscar public relations rules. Is there anyone in the Academy who cares?" Ralph posted the screenshot along with his scathing commentary.
But he didn't stop there. Ralph tagged the official blog of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and Tom Sherak, the Academy's president. He forwarded his blog post with pictures to them and added another post.
"I, Ralph Jackson, report someone for violating the Oscars public relations rules!"
After posting, Ralph felt a surge of satisfaction, though his mood soon soured again as he noticed his blog had no immediate responses. Did the Academy's bigwigs really not know about these behind-the-scenes machinations? Tom Sherak, the current president, was a producer. Vice President Tom Hanks was a superstar, and female Vice President Kathleen Kennedy had worked closely with Spielberg for years. They must have experienced the Oscar rush and known about these practices.
Suddenly, his blog's message prompt sounded. Ralph quickly clicked, hoping it was a reply from the Academy. It wasn't. Instead, a message from a media outlet appeared.
"Hello, Mr. Jackson. I'm a reporter from TMZ. I just saw your blog post and pictures. Can I take a few minutes of your time? Did you receive these personally?"
Ralph felt a spark of excitement. This could be the break he needed. He replied, "Yes, I received this email this morning. The other party clearly violated the Academy's ban and directly solicited votes from me via email."
Ralph's heart raced as he hit send. Perhaps this was the start of exposing the corrupt practices that had long tarnished the Oscars.
The reporter waited a moment before replying, "I checked the Academy's regulations and even called them to confirm. It is indeed a violation of the ban. Mr. Jackson, can TMZ interview you about this? It won't take much of your time."
Ralph didn't respond immediately. Instead, he refreshed his blog, hoping for a reaction from Tom Sherak or the official Film Academy blog. Nothing. Although he knew a swift response was unlikely given the involvement of Academy officials, Ralph mulled it over and then replied to the reporter, "Okay, meet me at the Moon Bay Cafe on Laurel Canyon Boulevard in North Hollywood at 10 o'clock."
The reply was instant. "Got it, I'll head over now."
After waiting for another ten minutes without any response from the Academy, Ralph shut down his computer, donned his coat, and headed to the cafe.
He knew this move would attract some criticism, but he was beyond caring. With retirement on the horizon and a comfortable life assured by his pension and dividends from previous works, Ralph felt invincible. The Academy couldn't touch him; he held no official position, merely a pure, lifelong membership that was nearly impossible to revoke. In the Academy's almost 100-year history, only one member had ever been expelled, Harvey Weinstein.
Ralph arrived at Moon Bay Cafe punctually. The TMZ reporter was already there, equipment set up and ready. After a brief introduction, they dove into the interview.
The reporter, with Ralph's consent, filmed the interview, where Ralph detailed the email violation. His outrage was palpable, and he spared no detail in his critique of the Academy's leniency towards such blatant breaches.
By noon, TMZ aired the interview, splashing screenshots of Ralph's emails and blog posts across their platform. They highlighted the Academy's strict regulations to clarify the severity of the violation for their audience.
The timing was impeccable. The Academy had just mailed out the Oscar ballots, and the entire nation was abuzz with Oscar fever. The story exploded, quickly climbing the hot search lists on Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube.
Soon after, an Academy member from Hong Kong and another from South Korea tweeted similar emails they had received. Despite the anonymity of the senders and TMZ's careful omission of the crew or film title, the beneficiaries were glaringly obvious.
What was once a simmering undercurrent of discontent erupted into a full-blown scandal. More and more Academy members came forward, sharing identical emails and adding fuel to the fire.
The media, always hungry for a hot scoop, pounced on the story. The Oscar "email gate" scandal had officially broken, sending shockwaves through Hollywood and beyond.
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